Luck of the Irish
by VitalElement
Summary: Christian needs Sheamus to help him knock Randy Orton off his pedestal. Sheamus has mixed feelings on the matter. Perhaps there's something Christian can do to win him over... Christian/Sheamus slash, circa 2011. Rated for some foul language and lots of man-on-man naughtiness.


_Author notes: This story doesn't have a lot in the way of plot, as I just wanted to write about these two fucking, to be honest. Its set around the time Christian lost the title/turned heel in 2011 when he, Orton and Sheamus had a three-way thing going on. I started it ages ago and have only just motivated myself into finishing it when I saw how very little Christian slash (particularly stuff where he isn't paired with Edge, which is practically the only Christian slash pairing I dislike) there is on here. I apologise for the title – I know it's terribly cheesy considering it's a story about Sheamus, but I'm terrible at titles so what can ya do? Enjoy!_

**Luck of the Irish**

Another Smackdown house-show had come and gone. The locker room was serenely quiet, all of the loud voices and the sweaty bodies they came out of had since departed for their respective hotels. One lone soul remained, taking his time as he began recuperating from the gruelling Triple Threat title match that had been the evening's main event. In contrast to his calm surroundings, Sheamus' inner monologue raged like a whirlwind in his mind. His usually pale face was tinged purplish-red, but whether this was from his recent shower or his obvious anger was anyone's guess.

He roughly towelled himself dry, breathing deeply to quell his frazzled nerves. Chalking up yet another pinfall loss to Orton had taken more of a toll on his pride than his body, and even a luxuriously long shower had done little to relax him. A persistent headache was darkening his mood even further. As auburn eyebrows knotted in frustration, the damp towel was launched against the nearest wall, followed closely by Sheamus's gym bag. He grunted in frustration, uncaring that his personal belongings were now scattered across the locker room floor. God, he hated Orton and that stupid fucking RKO!

A knock on the door behind him interrupted his silent ranting, and he cursed under his breath. He was in no mood for company, and hoped that if he stayed quiet, whoever it was would take the hint and piss off. It seemed his bad luck was destined to continue as the door opened, then closed again. Sheamus sighed, tugging his dress pants up over his thick thighs as he continued to ignore his visitor.

'Oh, don't rush to make yourself decent on my account.'

Hearing that voice, Sheamus didn't know whether to laugh or scream. He settled for reluctantly turning around instead. His blond Canadian co-worker leaned against the doorframe, smirking coolly. Sheamus quickly added that irritating crooked smile to the ever-growing list of things he currently hated, for no other reason than it always left him confused as to whether he wanted to boot the other man in the face, or throw him up against a wall and fuck him senseless.

'Christian. To what do I owe the pleasure?'

'Pleasure's all mine, Sheamus,' came the cheerful reply, ignorant of his own sarcastic greeting. 'That was some match tonight, huh? You did great out there.'

Sheamus shrugged off the compliment and busied himself with lacing up his shoes. Hearing soft footsteps moving towards him, Sheamus's eyes flickered upwards briefly, drinking in Christian's deliciously lean form. Damn it, why did the little bastard always wear such snugly-fitting clothes? Tonight, it was hip-hugger jeans and a blue hooded sweatshirt made of material so thin that Sheamus could just about see the outline of Christian's taut abdominal muscles through it. Before he could remind himself of all the things he'd like to do to that tight little body, Christian's voice brought him back down to earth.

'Really great, actually,' he continued. 'In fact, as much as I hate to admit it, there were times I genuinely thought you had the thing won. It's just a shame that Orton is such a slippery son of a bitch.'

Emerald eyes rolled in their sockets. 'What d'ya want?'

The smirk appeared again. 'I have a proposition for you.'

Sheamus frowned. Unless said 'proposition' involved his cock and Christian's mouth, chances are he wouldn't be up for involving himself in the other man's mischief.

'Not interested, fella.'

'You could at least hear me out.'

'I don't need to, 'cause I don't trust ya. It's that simple. Now hump off, will ya?'

He hoped gesturing towards the door and turning to collect his belongings from the floor would be enough to get his message across. But by the time he looked back around, Christian had stepped closer to him, that self-assured smile still adorning his face.

'What would you say if I told you my proposition guaranteed you winning the world heavyweight championship?'

Sheamus growled softly, refusing to be blinded by Christian's silken tone and pleading eyes, tempting as they were. "Captain Charisma" was certainly an accurate epithet. Regardless…

'I'd say you're talking outta your arse, as usual. You done now?'

He brought himself up to full height, towering over Christian to accentuate his point. However, it seemed even Sheamus's behemoth stature and trademark glare weren't enough to perturb Christian.

'All I'm saying is if we work together to take Orton out-'

'I know – you beat him for the title and I get the first shot at ya. Haven't we been over this before?'

'Actually, I was thinking that the other way around might be more tempting to you. I help you take Orton out so **you** can win the title, and you can give me the first shot at it.'

If Christian hadn't become so used to people looking at him like he was crazy over the years, the amused narrow-eyed expression on Sheamus's face might have offended him. When he nodded vigorously to show that he was in fact serious, Sheamus laughed humourlessly.

'I must have hit you a touch too hard with my Brogue tonight, Christian! I mean, you've never been a full shillin', I'll give you that. But ya seriously expect me to believe that you're gonna help me win the championship that everyone and their ma's dog knows you're obsessed wi' getting back? Aye, whatever. I wasn't born yesterday.'

That cocky smirk was replaced by a disappointed pout. The Celtic Warrior couldn't help but indulge himself in another short burst of laughter - Christian looked almost hurt at the reaction his proposal had been met with. After a pause, Christian glanced downwards at one of Sheamus's discarded items - the merchandise shirt he'd worn to the ring that night. Christian picked it up and studied the green Celtic cross design for a moment, running his fingers over it thoughtfully before raising his eyes up to Sheamus's again.

'Look, we both know that my reasons for coming here aren't philanthropic. Obviously, I'd like the title back. In fact, it used to be that there was nothing I wanted more. But after all this shit with Orton lately, my wants have become a lot simpler. The bottom line is, I just want the title away from him. And since I know you hate the guy as much as I do, I'm offering you a chance to work with me on this.'

Something about the sincerity in Christian's voice almost won Sheamus over. Almost.

'I'm honoured, truly. But plenty of folk around here can't stand that robotic tattooed eejit either, and would gladly give up their last sack of spuds for this fabulous business opportunity o' yours. So I'm curious, fella - what makes me so special?'

Christian nodded, again unfazed by the blatant sarcasm. 'You're right. Orton has a lot of enemies. But they don't share the same mind-set as you and I. You may not have as many miles on the clock as I do, but you still think and conduct yourself like a veteran of twice your experience. You take pride in your achievements, and have brought legitimacy to any title you've ever held.'

Sheamus shook his head and looked away, but a soft hand upon his shoulder brought his attention back to the intense aquamarine eyes of his colleague.

'Orton isn't like us. He's a self-serving egomaniac. And it kills me to see him trivialising his ownership of that title, something I worked so hard for, like it's just another meaningless accolade to add to his list. If I can't take it away from him, I want to see a man like you do it. And if I'm ever going to have one more match for that title, I'd want it to be against a man like you.'

As Christian dropped his hand away from Sheamus's shoulder his fingertips lingered on the pale skin, trailing lightly down the brawny upper arm before breaking contact completely. The sensual touch was too lacking in subtly for it to go unnoticed. Sheamus licked his lips and smiled broadly. If Christian was really going to go so far as to flirt with him, perhaps there was something to be gained from this situation after all.

'That was a very inspirational speech there, Christian. And I've gotta say, you've done a hell of a job of butterin' me up. Ya know, some people say that flattery gets you nowhere, but I think we both know that's not true.'

The Cheshire cat grin returned to Christian's face once again. 'So does this mean you'll at least think about it?'

'Oh, I'll do more than think about it, fella. In fact, consider me open to any suggestions that ya have.'

This sudden gung-ho attitude left Christian feeling somewhat taken aback, especially when Sheamus extended a hand to him. But he wasn't about to question it – he was getting what he wanted, after all. He vigorously accepted the handshake, smiling gratefully.

'That's awesome. You won't regret it.'

'I don't intend to, 'cause I'll only do it under one condition.'

Squeezing the smaller hand pointedly before releasing his grip, Sheamus stepped back to watch the confusion in Christian's face start to grow.

'Okay, what do you-'

He was startled into silence as the shirt he'd utilised so dramatically was snatched from his hand. He watched Sheamus examine the shirt in obvious mockery of his earlier theatrics. The silence was drawn out long enough for Christian to start to feel rather uncomfortable. Suddenly, Sheamus met his concerned gaze with an easy smile.

'Don't get me wrong, Christian. I don't wanna sound ungrateful here, 'cause me winning the title and then givin' you the first shot sounds just grand. And I'm sure that when it happens, we'll put on a true classic together. But to be honest wi' ya, I'd really like to preview the outcome of that particular match.'

He tossed the shirt aside aggressively, enjoying the disturbed expression on Christian's face. He was clearly bracing himself, eyeing the distance between themselves and the doorway.

'I, er…don't think I get what you mean.'

Now it was Sheamus's turn to smirk. 'What I mean, fella...is that I want ya on your back.'

Christian's body tensed as his personal space was invaded. Eyes wide, he gaped like a goldfish, his mind failing to think up something placating to say. The frightened reaction amused Sheamus immensely, but the joke quickly died as he grasped Christian's face in his hands and crushed their mouths together.

Realisation finally dawning, Christian's lips reacted with enthusiasm. He rested his palms against Sheamus's chest and ran his fingertips down the Irishman's immense torso, boldly continuing beyond the waistline and teasing the bulge growing there. A soft growl rose in Sheamus's throat with the contact, and he felt Christian's mouth contort into a wicked smile. His hands left Christian's face and tugged down the zipper on his sweatshirt. He explored the slighter man's chest, rolling the stiff nipples between his finger and thumb, and was rewarded with an eager tongue sliding in between his lips. Their kissing quickly became more intense, more frenzied and aggressive, leaving the two men practically panting into each other's mouths.

Sheamus soon felt hands firmly squeezing his backside and inclined his hips forward, moaning as Christian ground against him in response. Even through two layers of material, he could feel their equalling levels of excitement. Christian's nimble hands ventured up over the generously muscled back and shoulders to thread in amongst the other man's shocking red hair. He gasped sensually when large keen fingers brushed against his hardening cock, fumbling to release it from the denim that imprisoned it.

The locker room door suddenly burst open, and the two leapt apart. Fortunately the intruder, Heath Slater, was too busy speaking loudly into his cellphone to notice them. The riled-up pair tried to act nonchalant, faces flushed but not an ounce of shame between them. Christian smirked at Sheamus, an intrigued glint in his eyes.

'I didn't realise you swung that way.'

Sheamus turned to fish around in his bag, taking the opportunity to scowl at the cock-blocking ginger still bellowing into his cell. He retrieved the spare keycard to his hotel room, winking as he slipped it into Christian's hand.

'I swing, but only for a few very lucky lads,' he murmured. 'Room 406, midnight.'

Sheamus's tone left no room for negotiation. Christian nodded sedately, trying not to look too affected by the other man. After pocketing the card, he knelt down in front of Sheamus, not breaking eye contact for a second as he collected the discarded shirt from the floor. Sheamus held his hand out to receive it, but Christian simply tucked the garment under his arm and returned the wink before taking his leave. He didn't need to look back to know that his ass was being admired as he exited, and hesitated in closing the door behind him for this very reason.

Sheamus let out a shuddery sigh, sliding on the now wrinkled dress shirt he'd worn prior to the show and buttoning up the front with shaky fingers. He quickly flung the rest of his belongings into his bag and headed out of the locker room door, all the while adjusting his pants to make the tension in them seem less obvious. Midnight couldn't arrive fast enough.

\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/

Sheamus stalked around the dark hotel room like a caged animal, checking the bedside clock for the umpteenth time. Not long now. He went to the minibar and poured out two generous glasses of whiskey, if only to provide something to distract him from the maddening anticipation. Why the hell had he said midnight? He was starting to wish that he had just dragged Christian straight out to the parking lot and fucked him in the back of his rental instead. Or simply taken him right there and then in the locker room, whether that obnoxious gobshite Slater had been there or not.

He sat by the open balcony window in the moonlight, sipping at his drink. The cool breeze against the thin bottle green satin material of his lounge pants eased the scorching heat of his arousal. He grinned, knowing he'd soon have a much more pleasant outlet for his desire. He was a man of his word, so if Christian came through tonight he'd certainly keep his side of the bargain and help out with the Orton situation. What did he have to lose, after all? If Christian was genuine, then he'd get the title. If Christian was planning to screw him over after all, at least he'll have gotten a decent lay out of it. More than decent, in fact - if what he'd heard from Del Rio was true, the fiery little Canadian was a force to be reckoned with in the bedroom.

The sound of the hotel room door softly closing brought him round from his train of thought. As Christian stepped into the light Sheamus arched an amused eyebrow, seeing that the other man was wearing the shirt he had taken earlier, as well as those mouth-wateringly tight jeans. That the shirt was obviously too big on Christian's lithe frame made the sight of him even more arousing. Sheamus didn't do guys often, but when he did he preferred them to be small, blond, experienced and subservient. Christian definitely ticked all those boxes. Sheamus approached, licking his lips predatorily and glancing at the clock one more time.

'Midnight on the dot? Nice one.'

Christian offered a coy smile, different to his usual smirk but just as enticing. 'I can be quite obedient when I feel like it.'

'Glad to hear it. Wanna drink?'

Christian took the offered glass and promptly joined Sheamus in downing the contents. He cringed as the liquor burned his throat and gave him the urge to cough. Tried as he might, he couldn't hold in a splutter and cringed harder when he heard Sheamus chuckle. Before Christian could get too embarrassed, Sheamus relieved him of his empty glass, setting it down on the dresser with his own. He gave Christian a thorough looking over before moving in close.

'Ya look fuckin' amazin' in my shirt.'

His lusty grin mirrored Christian's, and only grew wider as arms snaked up his shoulders and around his neck. Leaning into his lover's herculean form, Christian drew their faces closer.

'I look even better out of it.'

Both men let out an enthused growl, their lips meeting in a searing kiss. Christian's face flushed as Sheamus's tongue instantly engaged his in heated battle. He responded in kind, his teeth gently grazing the eager lips that assaulted his own. Sheamus trailed his fingers down Christian's sides, reaching around to squeeze his shapely ass with both hands. A wave of giddiness washed over Christian as he was kissed with a passion he'd been unaware Sheamus possessed. His back slammed painlessly into the dresser, and he was vaguely aware of glass shattering. The offensive sound didn't break either man's stride, and Christian moaned throatily as Sheamus's busy hands unfastened his jeans and slid beneath the denim. Sheamus toyed lazily with the hot rigid flesh he was met with, thrilled at the way Christian's breath hitched feverishly with his every touch.

Every new touch added fuel to the fire of yearning, from curious hands brushing unexplored skin to overzealous thighs nudging against hardening flesh. Christian backed Sheamus towards the king-sized bed, deliberately entangling their legs to knock him off balance. The second he was on his back, Sheamus found Christian on top of him, nibbling at his neck and grinding their hips together. Despite how amazing it felt, the Irishman wasn't entirely comfortable with this arrangement.

'I top.'

Christian glanced up, eyebrow raised. 'No shit, big guy. Ever heard of foreplay?'

'Aye, alright. Just warn me if you're plannin' on doing anythin' freaky.'

Teeth clamping down on his nipple brought Sheamus back on task, and Christian worked his way down the immense torso, kissing and stroking the rippling abdomen. He traced the tight belly button with his tongue, hearing Sheamus sigh appreciatively as he was relieved of his silken lounge pants in one fluid motion. Before venturing lower, Christian paused to admire the Irishman's impressive physique, his eyes widening as they honed in on the newly exposed region.

'Holy fuck…'

Even with his mind hazed over with lust, Sheamus heard him quite clearly. 'S'matter?'

Christian looked between Sheamus's face and his crotch a few times before grinning wryly.

'No Irish curse for you then, huh?'

Sheamus chuckled at that. He never got tired of being complimented on his impressive size. His proud smile melted into a contented grimace as Christian's skilful hand got to work, bringing his engorged shaft to full mast with long slow strokes. Lips littered his pale inner thighs with light kisses and a warm tongue left cool trails of saliva from the base of his cock to the tip of its throbbing length. Christian could practically feel the heat of the rigid porcelain skin coming off in waves. He swirled his tongue against the broad head a few times before his lips encased it. He suckled softly at first, working the rest of the shaft with oscillating hand movements. As the suckling got firmer, Christian moved the shaft deeper into his mouth. With each action, he was rewarded with a louder grunt of pleasure or tighter convulsions of the strong leg muscles either side of his head.

Thoroughly enjoying himself, Sheamus silently thanked his lucky stars and scolded himself for trying to make the other man leave his locker room earlier. Christian was a lot better at this than anyone he'd ever been with, particularly his female sexual partners. Perhaps it took having a cock to know exactly what to do with one. Whatever it was, Christian had this down to an art-form. His lips and tongue worked in perfect synchronicity, applying just the right pressure at just the right time. In addition to the hand caressing the base of his cock, a finger stroked around his entrance, which felt good in ways Sheamus didn't know existed. When the same finger started to gently probe him, he flinched rather violently, the shock of such a foreign sensation overshadowing the obvious pleasure that came with it.

'Oi!'

The hardened shaft left Christian's lips with a dull pop as he raised his head. 'What's up?'

'I thought I told ya to warn me about stuff like that.'

Christian studied Sheamus's offended face for a moment before giggling rather girlishly.

'You seriously consider a little ass-play to be 'freaky'? It's not like I'm driving a ten inch dildo up there, you big fairy.'

Although Christian's tone was playful, it still made Sheamus blush. 'Get stuffed.'

Still smirking, Christian pressed a few apologetic kisses to the head of Sheamus's cock. 'If a finger's too much for you, I can always just slip my tongue in.'

Sheamus scowled. 'You're alright, thanks.'

'Prude.'

'Slut.'

'Virgin.'

With a growl of annoyance, Sheamus grabbed the back of Christian's head and forced him back to work. He didn't stay irritated for long, gasping as the mouth around his cock vibrated with Christian's persistent chuckling. He hissed as his tightening balls were massaged and gently rolling between agile fingers. The suction became harder and deeper, the hand jacking his cock becoming more frenzied. Holy shit, no wonder Alberto still panted after this man like a mutt in heat! Sheamus felt himself inching closer to the edge and reluctantly pulled away from Christian. As happy as he would have been to finish in his mouth, there was no way he was going to let the Canadian leave the room without going to town on his perfect little ass first. He flipped Christian over onto his back, pinning him beneath his superior weight. Christian's jeans were now in a small heap on the far side of the bed, leaving him naked from the waist down. Although the oversized shirt still concealed his modesty for the most part, an obvious tent in the material was a clear sign of his arousal. His face was beautifully flushed, and his cerulean eyes were glowing with desire. He looked like something from a dream.

'Mind explainin' to me how the fuck you're still single?'

The tell-tale tremble of longing evident in his own voice made Sheamus cringe. Christian smiled. 'Well, I wouldn't be able to have fun being fucked by hot guys like you if I wasn't. Speaking of which…'

Christian nodded at his jeans, which Sheamus obligingly passed to him. He pulled a small bottle of lube from the back pocket, which was instantly snatched from his grasp and flung out of the open balcony window. Aghast, Christian stared at Sheamus. The larger man shrugged, face neutral but eyes sparkling in mischief.

'What's up, fella?'

'Are you fucking serio-'

'What's that, Christian? Ya honestly consider a little dry-fuckin' to be 'freaky'? Don't be such a fairy.'

Before further argument could be made, Sheamus grasped at the shirt and tore it away from Christian's body as easily as if it were tissue paper. The reminder of how big and powerful the Irishman was raised goosebumps across Christian's skin. Sheamus sat back to admire his handiwork. Christian had been right – he looked even more exquisite naked, not an ounce of fat anywhere and deliciously well proportioned. Sheamus took his time savouring the toned body beneath him, his hands leisurely wandering across the modestly muscled flesh, and his lips and tongue enjoyed the contours of the other man's mouth. Christian soon felt impatient hands kneading his thighs, nudging them apart insistently. The Irishman's weight shifted off him as Sheamus moved to kneel in between his legs. Sheamus trailed a finger from the tip of Christian's erect cock all the way down to his entrance. He teased the puckered hole gently, eyeing the smaller man in amusement when he visibly flinched.

'Ya look nervous, fella.'

'I'm not!' Christian winced as his tone betrayed his words. 'I just…really don't see how you're going to be able to get that humongous cock of yours inside of me without a little help.'

'Aww, you're so good at givin' compliments. Don't worry though, I'll get in somehow.'

'But-'

'I said don't worry. You'll be surprised at how gentle I can be. Trust me – I'm Irish.'

Giving his best reassuring smile, Sheamus leaned forward and pressed a feather-soft kiss to the concerned pout. It was very different to all of their other kisses – intimate and delicate, almost loving. Distracted by the unexpected romanticism, Christian didn't notice a hand fumbling under the pillow behind his head. As the kiss broke and Christian opened his eyes, he spotted a small bottle of lube in Sheamus's open hand.

'You twisted fuck!'

The mixed look of outrage and relief on Christian's face was too priceless for Sheamus not to laugh at. 'Aww, ya didn't think I was that feckin' evil, did ya now?'

'Yes!'

'Wow, I really had ya sweatin' there!'

'Yeah, very clever. But there's a better way for you to make me sweat…'

The fierce kisses returned as Sheamus settled down on top of Christian, his erection resting comfortably against a soft bronzed thigh. The bottle was taken from him, and he soon felt slick fingers sliding against his thick shaft. Happy to do his part, Sheamus retrieved the bottle and deposited a fair amount of liquid onto his own hand. He gently slid his index finger inside Christian, followed by the middle finger. He could see now why Christian had looked a little concerned – the older man was pretty tight. Sheamus grinned to himself – he'd change that soon enough. He added a third finger and flexed them, making Christian writhe and sigh beneath him.

'Don't skimp on that stuff.'

Whether Christian was genuinely nervous or just putting on a show was unclear, but either way it was turning Sheamus on no end.

'Are ya really that scared of my cock?'

'Not at all.' Christian smiled, one of those lovely shy smiles. 'In fact, I'm very fond of your cock. I'm just concerned that taking it up my ass will compromise my in-ring ability. And my general walking and sitting ability, for that matter.'

'Ya always know the right thing to say, ya know that?'

Before Christian could reply, Sheamus was on his feet by the foot of the bed. He roughly dragged Christian over to him, flipping him up onto his hands and knees facing away from him. He ran his large hands over the slender hips and supple ass, occasionally reaching around and giving Christian's cock a few cursory strokes. To ensure Christian was properly prepared, he splashed some more lube out onto his fingers and slid them back into the tight entrance. He made a short game of flexing his fingers increasingly wider, marvelling at the way Christian's body contracted and convulsed at each invasion.

'Ya see? I'm no prude. Arse-play is fine by me.'

His fingers delved further, gently teasing that special electric spot found deep within. Christian gasped out nonsensical half-words, his voice pitchy and quivering. It took all of Sheamus's control not to blow his load just listening to the other man's pleasured moans.

'P-please…'

'Please what, darlin'? You want something else in there?'

'Ah…yeah…'

The fingers were removed and Sheamus directed the head of his cock to Christian's entrance, pushing forward as restrainedly as he could. The tightness engulfing his thick cock was like a taste of absolute heaven. He felt Christian constrict around him in response to the pain and nearly lost his mind with the wave of pleasure that shot through him. Christian whimpered at the burning sensation of being penetrated, trying his damnedest to calm himself and relax his body.

'Ah! Fuck!'

One large hand rubbed his back soothingly while the other had a supportive hold on his hip. Sheamus grinned breathlessly as he felt Christian slowly relax around him, still panting heavily but not sounding as frantic.

'Ya see? All that worrying for nothing. Y'alright if I move now?'

He felt Christian's hips rock against his and took that as his cue. He withdrew slowly, nearly pulling all of the way out before plunging back into Christian's tightness. The moan Christian produced this time was a lot more gratified, and he visibly pushed back for more. Sore as he was, Sheamus's girth felt amazing stretching his insides to their limit. He was thrust into again and again, faster each time, agonising volts of pleasure rocking his core. The pair soon hit a steady pace, their spasmodic cries and moans mingling in with the rhythmical slapping sound of flesh on flesh. Sweat streaming down his glowing skin, Sheamus didn't know how much longer he could last in this position, legs wobbly and threatening to buckle.

'God, you're so fuckin' tight.'

He pulled out and flipped Christian over onto his back, pouncing on him and kissing him ravenously. Christian moaned into Sheamus's mouth as he was fiercely penetrated once again. Sheamus felt blunt nails raking his shoulders and slender legs encircling his waist. Locking eyes with Christian, he felt as if the blood in his veins had caught fire. He slammed his hips forward, burying his cock to the hilt inside the smaller man's body. He broke the kiss, allowing Christian to let out a strangled sensual cry before withdrawing and ploughing back into him again. At the back of his mind, Sheamus almost felt guilty to be fucking Christian so roughly. But judging by the other man's encouraging moans, pain was the last thing on his mind. Christian appeared lost in the decadent sensation Sheamus's cock pounding against his sweet spot offered, and he reached down to stroke his own stiff cock in time with each animalistic thrust.

It didn't take long for a flash of light to cloud Christian's vision, a powerful orgasm ripping through his body. He cried out huskily as he came, sending pearly strings spattering across both of their stomachs. Not long after, Sheamus felt his insides convulse and swiftly pulled out. He groaned hoarsely, his release splashing out across Christian's torso. The big Irishman collapsed exhausted on top of his lover, and the two lay breathless, blends of sweat and seed rapidly cooling against their skin. When he was able, Sheamus pressed a chaste kiss to Christian's mouth before rolling off to lie by his side. The two look each other up and down, grinning at the sight of the evidence of their play smeared across both of their chests. Sheamus casually swiped his hand down his front, gazing at the sticky mess that adhered to his fingers.

'Well, aren't we in a state? Sorry about that.'

Christian shrugged, rolling onto his side to look at Sheamus. 'It's fine. I'm not too keen on having cum up my ass anyway. So, how did you enjoy your "preview"?'

The grin on the Irishman's handsome face was unmistakable. 'If the outcome of our match is as satisfyin' as that, ya can have as many rematches against me as ya want.'

'Thanks,' Christian chuckled. 'Unfortunately, I'm not sure we'll be able to put on anything as spectacular as that in the ring.'

'Well, maybe if I'm lucky, ya might treat me to another private viewin' sometime.'

Christian replied by grasping Sheamus's wrist, bringing the cum-coated fingers to his mouth and licking them clean. He moaned at the combined taste of their individual flavours, acting as if it was the most delectable thing he'd ever sampled. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Sheamus was fascinated with what he was seeing. No sooner had Christian finished, his lips were captured in a rough kiss. Sheamus's tongue dipped into his mouth, allowing him to share in the savoury taste of their intermingling seed. Christian had never been so happy to have been proven wrong - Sheamus definitely wasn't as prudish as he'd first thought. Maybe a few more 'private viewings' would be worth his while. The kiss was reluctantly broken and the pair moved a little way apart, watching each other with matching devilish smiles.

'Ya wanna discuss these plans you've got for Orton then?'

'Well, the night is still young. Is there something else you'd rather be doing?'

After thinking for a moment, Sheamus slowly slid off the bed and arched his aching back, the moonlight bouncing off his milky skin. Christian made no attempt to conceal the way his eyes roamed over the impressive body of his lover. Sheamus grinned, offering Christian his hand.

'How about a nice long shower first?'

His hand was gleefully accepted and he hauled Christian up off the bed, steadying him when he staggered a little. Apparently he was already feeling the effects of their fun, and yet he was still up for more. Sheamus was indeed a very lucky Irishman. He hit the bathroom light-switch and gestured for Christian to enter first, eyeing that perfect ass hungrily before dragging the door shut behind them.

\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/

_Author notes: Sorry to deny you the shower sex, but this shit is long enough. If you've made it this far, congratulations and please review – even if it's just one word, I'd very much appreciate it.  
_

_I wasn't planning on continuing this, but if you would like me to, please say so and it might help motivate me. Also, let me know if you have any random Christian pairings you want to see – the more unusual, the better. I can't guarantee stories will come out fast or that I'll be able to do every request, but I'll certainly enjoy considering your suggestions. I'm working on various ideas for an Alberto/Christian story next, but I'm not stuck on a particular idea yet. I've wanted to write Ambrose/Christian for a while too, so you'll imagine how happy Smackdown made me this week. Surely, it's a sign of some sort?! Probably not…_

_Anyway, thanks for reading! Hope you liked it!_


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